My God, My God

I have been feeling a bit sheepish about posting old sermons. I don't have time to suitably adapt them for print.In general my preaching text is in 16 pt font and weirdly spaced and punctuated.


I decided to post a link to an audio recording of a sermon that I preached last year on one of Jesus' last words fromthe cross: "My God, My God, Why hast thou forsaken me?"  I suspect that I cried. I almost always cry,

I hope that everyone has a meaningful Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday. I hope to have a blog post up by Easter morning.


Sermon: My God, My God, Why has thou forsaken me?

Holy Wednesday; Spy Wednesday

Today the church has traditionally remembered Judas’ betrayal of Jesus. One of the most disturbing ways that power operates in our world is by tempting us to betray each other. The powerful do this by making us afraid, or angry, or distracted, or apathetic, or self-righteous, or concerned with protecting our own, or desirous of power. C.S. Lewis gives another account of why we so often betray one another--it is because we want to gain entrance into an “inner ring.” He describes the Inner Ring in the following way:

There are no formal admissions or expulsions. People think they are in it after they have in fact been pushed out of it, or before they have been allowed in: this provides great amusement for those who are really inside. It has no fixed name. The only certain rule is that the insiders and outsiders call it by different names. From inside it may be designated, in simple cases, by mere enumeration: it may be called “You and Tony and me.” When it is very secure and comparatively stable in membership it calls itself “we.” When it has to be expanded to meet a particular emergency it calls itself “all the sensible people at this place.” From outside, if you have despaired of getting into it, you call it “That gang” or “they” or “So-and-so and his set” or “The Caucus” or “The Inner Ring.”

Lewis goes on to suggest that such groups are inevitable and in and of themselves are not wicked, but he asks his reader to contemplate the following question:

In the whole of your life as you now remember it, has the desire to be on the right side of that invisible line ever prompted you to any act or word on which, in the cold small hours of a wakeful night, you can look back with satisfaction? If so, your case is more fortunate than most.

This desire to be part of an inner circle is a most human desire, but it is also the well-spring of any number of unethical actions.

For nine out of ten of you the choice which could lead to scoundrelism will come, when it does come, in no very dramatic colours. Obviously bad men, obviously threatening or bribing, will almost certainly not appear. Over a drink, or a cup of coffee, disguised as triviality and sandwiched between two jokes, from the lips of a man, or woman, whom you have recently been getting to know rather better and whom you hope to know better still—just at the moment when you are most anxious not to appear crude, or naïf or a prig—the hint will come. It will be the hint of something which the public, the ignorant, romantic public, would never understand: something which even the outsiders in your own profession are apt to make a fuss about: but something, says your new friend, which “we”—and at the word “we” you try not to blush for mere pleasure—something “we always do.”

I cannot say that Judas betrayed Jesus because he wanted to be part of an inner circle. Judas’ actual motives are somewhat murky-- he has been presented as a thief, an unhappy revolutionary, at times his actions explained enigmatically by the phrase “Satan entered into him” or by the theological explanation that he was “predestined to betray Jesus.” I am uncertain about Judas' motives, but I know my own. When I have betrayed people in my life it has almost always been because I wanted to be part of some inner circle. When we betray someone it is very hard to forgive ourselves. There is great moral peril as we risk becoming hardened by our actions. When we betray someone we often demonize them in our minds to justify what we have done.  There is nothing more dangerous to our souls than this process of dehumanization.

There is hope for us betrayers though...

There is a very powerful poem by Luci Shaw that reminds us that Judas was not the only disciple who betrayed Jesus and I will end with it this morning.

"Judas, Peter”

because we are all
betrayers, taking
silver and eating
body and blood and asking
(guilty) is it I and hearing
him say yes
it would be simple for us all
to rush out
and hang ourselves
but if we find grace
to cry and wait
after the voice of morning
has crowed in our ears
clearly enough
to break our hearts
he will be there
to ask us each again
do you love me?

-Luci Shaw

(non)Lessons from the Pandemic

There are no lessons, but we should be open to learning. This pandemic has no purpose, but we should still be attentive to God’s leading.  I admit that I sometimes get frustrated when people grasp for easy moral lessons from misfortune. In the early days of social isolations such memes were circulating everywhere.  I saw one meme suggesting that Mother Nature was sending us all to our room to think about our carbon footprint. A lot of people are saying that this is a time to think about what is truly essential. I might have even written something similar yesterday. 

Searching for moral lessons is one of the ways we deal with the problem of pain, but it not a method that I extract much comfort from.  

I believe that the good news of Jesus Christ can be summarized in the Angel’s proclamation: God is with us! God accompanies us in our sufferings and, in Christ, God has suffered with us.  We are not left alone.  

The question of purpose begins with this miracle of incarnation and presence.  

The song that I had on repeat three years ago when my dearly beloved Dad was dying was Leonard Cohen’ Come Healing. I even convinced some people to sing it for Easter Sunday. Leonard Cohen’s own spirituality is an admixture of Kaballah, Buddhism, and Jesus. Yet, I think this song really resonates with a theology of Gregory of Nazianzen summarized by his statement: “What has not been assumed has not been healed.” Gregory was reflecting on the mystery that all things will be redeemed in and through Christ.  God is reconciling all things through Christ.  

I wasn’t hoping for physical healing for my Father, but I was longing for healing. 

Cohen leads with the line:

O gather up the brokenness/ And bring it to me now/ The fragrance of those promises/You never dared to vow/ The splinters that you carry/The cross you left behind/ Come healing of the body/ Come healing of the mind.

I was hoping that my Dad would find a complex reconcilation in his last days and fittingly Cohen beacon his listeners to:

Behold the gates of mercy/In arbitrary space/And none of us deserving/ The cruelty or the grace

Cohen song speaks to so many situations that require resolution.  What does it mean for healing to come to our world?  Our communities?  Ourselves?  Cohen words remind me that even as we long for justice, or, to get “what we deserve” we so often don’t.  Our lives are lived bouncing between  undeserved cruelty and undeserved grace. Some people get more cruelty... other more grace.   I have received more grace and it has made the difference in my life.  I am a debtor.  This grounds me even when I personally feel the sting of injustice or undeserved cruelty.  

The name of Jesus has always been  shorthand for me when I have tried to name my undeserved graces. It is through the lens of Jesus that I hear the following line from Cohen:  O troubled dust concealing/An undivided love/The heart beneath is teaching/To the broken heart above

I think that there are things we might learn from this pandemic, but I suspect that these lessons might all echo what Paul tells us in Ephesians--nothing, no nothing, can separate us from the love of God that we find in and through Jesus Christ. We might find purpose in these dark times, but I contend that purpose is best charted out as we listen for the sound of Jesus’ steps by our side.  This being with Jesus is the purpose, to have our lives hidden in God through Christ is the purpose. . . 

Holy Monday: Against Austerity

Today is Holy Monday. The lectionary text for today is John 12:1-11. It ends with the chilling words: “When the great crowd of the Jews learned that he was there, they came not only because of Jesus but also to see Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. So the chief priests planned to put Lazarus to death as well.” Lazarus’ great crime, in they eyes of the powerful, was possessing new life that testified to the resurrecting power of Jesus. 

John speaks continually of Christ’s abundant life. John’s Jesus is a Jesus of extravagant life. The first miracle of Jesus in the book of John is to turn water into wine. On Holy Monday, we are called to remember Lazarus’ sister Mary: “who took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair.” The sensuality of the scene is a bit unnerving—Mary wipes Jesus feet with her hair. I am not given to extravagant gestures either personally or in worship and so I confess that this scene is a bit unnerving. I prefer the austerity of the washing of feet at the last supper. Yet, sometimes austerity is not in the service of life or the Gospel, sometimes austerity is in the service of death.

We are seeing that in dreadful real time right now as the bodies pile up. The dark logic of economic austerity and might makes right capitalism is showing its very ugly face. There aren’t enough mask or gowns or respirators. Millions in the US have had their health insurances ripped away from these past weeks. 

Last week I posted a playlist of songs that I have been listening to during this time of social distancing. One of the songs that I included was Nina Simone’s version of “Ain’t got no—I’ve got life.” Nina Simone wanted to be a concert pianist. It was not a path available to her at that time. She strove to live as a free, strong, un-bought women and in myriad ways she was crucified for it--

crucified for telling the truth in powerful ways like she does in her song “Mississippi Goddamn.”  On this Holy Monday,  I ask that you listen to Nina Simone.  The powers of death are constantly swirling around us breaking us down trying to make us say that we are ashamed.  Do not let them make you ashamed.

Please know that your precious life matters. The precious lives of your children matter. The precious lives of your neighbors matter. The precious lives of doctors and nurses matter. The precious lives of those without homes matter. The precious lives of Seniors in care homes matter. The precious lives of personal support workers in nursing homes matter. The precious lives of prisoners matter. The precious lives of those who have faced racism all their lives and have hypertension matter. The precious lives of those in immigration detention matter. The precious lives of those who laboured unsafely with asbestos matter. The precious lives of the people working for minimum wage in grocery stores matter. The precious lives of the people in Iran matter. The precious lives of the people in China matter. Jesus came so that we might hold life precious, abundantly precious. 

Please fight the regime of death where ever you see it.

Palm Sunday, 2020

Palm Sunday, 2020

No crowds this Palm Sunday

No witnesses to Jesus’ triumphal entry

No crowds to shout loud hosanna.

In the courts of the powerful crucifixions are still planned.

Better to snatch him in the darkness of the garden when he is alone.

Crowds yelling crucify are not essential

they can manufacture the consent after--

tearing off Jesus’ reputation and tossing dice for it.

They will justify what they have done.

There is no one to shout Ecce Homo this Good Friday.

Jesus dies alone.

No one to accompany Mary as she grieves.

No one allowed to prepare the body

No one allowed to visit the tomb.

Even so

Jesus arrives in our Upper Rooms
speaking strange peace.

The faithfulness of Ruth in the time of covid-19

The book of Ruth occurs in the time of the Judges. The time of the Judges is shorthand for a time of violence and precarity. It is not unlike our saying that this story happened during the Great Depression, or the Great War, or perhaps, during the Great Pandemic. 

It is interesting to think of these two books of the Bible happening at the same time. On one hand, the rise and fall of military leaders and the vexed question of war and conquests and succession. On the other, two women make their lonely journey from Moab to Bethlehem in the midst of a famine. Thinking of these two stories together reminds me of Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings. It also has two stories happening at the same time: one an account of battles and mighty men and the other a story of the dogged pilgrimage of Sam, Frodo, and Gollum towards Mount Doom. We know in that story that the fate of Middle Earth does not depend on the doings of general, but on the dogged faithfulness of the little hobbits. 

This is also true of Ruth and Judges: the mighty men (and some women) who arise in the book of Judges aren’t significant for redemption history, but Ruth is (she will be the Grandmother of David and the ancestor of Jesus.) 

Ruth’s makes a promise to Naomi—“your God will be my God; your people my people”—it is frequently used at weddings. When I was a teenager this story really offended my evangelical sensibilities. Did Ruth have her own faith? Did she believe? 

This is not a concern of the authors. Instead their concern is displaying Ruth’s exemplary faithfulness. Her actions towards Naomi are describe as “doing hesed” -- 

hesed is generally translated in the Bible as “faithful lovingkindness“ and it is generally a type of loving that is assigned only to God. 

Things are starting to look very dark in our world. My heart aches for the nurses and workers at long-term care homes who can’t get appropriate PPE. Healthcare workers are trying to procure hotel rooms, RVs, and basement apartments so that they don’t infect their loved ones. Our own family is broken up for the next several weeks so that Doug can work on the front lines in Toronto. 

It is hard for the church to know how to minister at this time. What are the churches essential services? In my mind what is essential is summarized well by what the Catholics call the corporal acts of mercy. 

Accompanying the afflicted.

Giving water to the thirsty

Clothing the naked 

Shelter the homeless

Instructing the confused 

Visiting the Sick

Ransoming the captives

Burying the dead.

And yet some of this work is made very difficult and some of this work is nearly impossible in this time of covid-19. How do we, for instance, visit the sick, or bury the dead? It is imperative that the church not become lethargic: it must employ every form of creativity possible to keep doing its essential work. The church must be advocating for the homeless in overcrowded shelters who desperately need a rooms of their own in which to self-isolate. As covid-19 rages through the prisons it becomes imperative that the church works to ransom the captives. The church need to find what every means we can to continue to make sure the thirsty have enough water to drink and with which to wash their hands. 

We must continue to find ways to care for those who are the most vulnerable in our world. Online services are essential: the church must comfort all the afflicted. Yet, church can’t just be therapeutics for the well-heeled. The church needs to continue to be the place where the people of God scheme together about how to care for those for whom the impact of covid-19 is going to fall fast and hard. 

The church must become the church of Ruth in this time of covid-19. A church of dogged faithfulness. May each of us, like Ruth, be filled with the transformative, redemptive power of divine love. May we like Ruth not give up on the vulnerable, even—and especially because—we are vulnerable too. May we find the strength to travel the hard, long, road of faithfulness, Amen!

Playlist for this time.

What songs are helping you get through our current crisis?  Music has been very helpful in keeping me steady and sane.  I have been working on a playlist and would love to hear what other people have found to be sustaining in this difficult time.

First, I have found that there is no getting through this anxiety, stress, and close quarters without a sense of humor.  The Statler Brothers, Flowers on the Wall always makes me laugh.  The song also pretty accurately describes some of that stir crazy feelings of quarantine: 

 Countin' flowers on the wall/ That don't bother me at all/ Playin' solitaire till dawn with a deck of fifty-one/ Smoking cigarettes and watching' Captain Kangaroo?  Now don't tell me I've nothing to do.

Another songwriter that makes laugh is John Prine. Today, I add him to my list because he has been on a ventilator suffering from cover-19.  Johanna said to me yesterday, "Mom, your favorite music is music that sounds like it is about God even when it is not."  Prine's Boundless love is a perfect addition to that category with these stirring lines:  

 If  by chance I should find myself at risk/ A-falling from this jagged cliff/ I look below, and I look above/I'm surrounded by your boundless love/Surround me with your boundless love/Confound me with your boundless love/ I was drowning in the sea, lost as I could be/When you found me with your boundless love/You dumbfound me with your boundless love/ You surround me with your boundless love.

I have been finding that music has been helping me to pray even when I am personally find prayer difficult.  Several songs that I have had on repeat really function as prayers.  In January 2010 both my parents were in the hospital  at the same time that the world was reeling from televised scenes from the earthquake in Haiti.  It was during a concert to raise money for Haiti that I first remember hearing Stephen Foster's standard Hard Times.  I especially like this version by Emmylou Harris, Hard Times.  I think this is an extraordinary and simple payer:  "hard times come again no more."  

A prayer of lament and honest struggle with the silence of God: Rich Mullins, Hard to Get. 

Did You ever know loneliness/Did You ever know need/Do You remember just how long a night can get?/When You were barely holding on/And Your friends fall asleep/And don't see the blood that's running in Your sweat/Will those who mourn be left uncomforted/While You're up there just playing hard to get?

A prayer of confidence in God: Audrey Assad,  Lead Kindly Light.

Lead, kindly Light, amid the grey and gloom/The night is long and I am far from home/Here in the dark, I do not ask to see/The path ahead-one step enough for me/ Lead on, lead on kindly Light.

A plea for healing and restoration:  Leonard Cohen, Come Healing

A prayer for all those who are dying alone:  Brian Eno, The Big Ship

Finally, I have been finding affirmation for things that I love and find important.  In this current state all the nonessentials are being burnt away like dross.  I have always found this fiercely sung version of "I've Got No" to be a powerful affirmation of life:  Nina Simone,  Ain't Got No--I Got Life.

Another favorite in a similar vein is Danny Schmidt's,  Stained Glass.  A large elm tree has destroyed the stained glass in a church: Can it be fixed by Easter?  The song is a fierce reminder that all of human life is being redeemed and transformed in the Incarnation.  It is also been a time to remember the importances of friendship and solidarity.  I would love to send out two songs to everyone that I love Mavis Staples, You Are Not Alone and Bryan Moyer Suderman, Wishing you well.  I have added a link for you to buy Bryan's song.  I think it names some of the complex emotions of having to care for our friend and loved ones through touchpads and screens.  

Finally,  I will end with a song urging us all to keep on fighting and doing the best we can: Stan Rogers', The Mary Ellen Carter.  

Here is a link to the full playlist.